


folk remedies

by jackclaw



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Fluff, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Menstruation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No beta we die like mne, One-sided feelings, afab!Jaskier, but like not in a sad way this is mostly just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackclaw/pseuds/jackclaw
Summary: There are many moments Jaskier could point to and say,This is when I fell in love with Geralt, but one moment stands out among the rest.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	folk remedies

**Author's Note:**

> i proofread this but there are probably typos that will get edited further after it's had time to sit for a day or twelve because writing be like that sometimes

There are many moments Jaskier could point to and say, _This is when I fell in love with Geralt._

The first time she saw him across the tavern, handsome and looking achingly lonely, she fell for him the way she does most everyone: fast and fleeting. A handful of minutes later, he stopped her in the middle of the road, grabbed the charmed amulet around her neck and asked, "What's it do?" He grunted in acceptance when she explained it made her voice deeper and hair appear shorter so she could disguise herself as a man to travel more easily. Her heart tripped over itself for a beat.

Then there was a few weeks after that when, upon seeing her in a skirt for the first time, he stuck his entire foot and part of his calf in his mouth attempting to ask her what pronouns she wanted him to use. It's something she hadn't felt the need to explain until then. Something she felt intrinsically but wasn't quite sure how to articulate. He waited patiently until she could answer. "'He' when I've got the glamor on, 'she' when I don't. I'm... Being a woman is important to me, I still think of myself as 'she'. But I'd miss being somewhere between if I couldn't anymore," she said quietly.

"Alright," Geralt said. And that was that.

But one moment stands out among the rest, and it is this: a few years into their travels Geralt comes back from talking to the locals of whatever little town it is they're in to find Jaskier curled up in bed, all the blankets and his traveling cloak wrapped around her. Only her blue eyes, rimmed red, peek out from the mass of cloth. Across the room, her used and freshly washed rags are laid out to dry. He hums to himself as he takes it in. "Be right back," he says, then leaves.

Jaskier lets out a small huff and curls into herself a little tighter. The somewhat disgusting tea she brews every morning does a lot--prevents pregnancies, makes it so her courses only show up a few times a year--but when they do show up they're as bad as ever. The worst part of it is the pain. It radiates from her womb up her back and down her thighs until it seems like her everything hurts. It makes her more useless than normal. Not that she'd ever say something like that when Geralt is around, but she can't help but feel it in the midst of all the other misery. She wallows in the feeling, letting everything build on itself until it gets her into a truly foul mood that matches the pain that washes over her.

It's less than half an hour until Geralt returns. He's quiet when he comes in, making sure that the door doesn't slam behind him as he nudges it closed with his foot. Jaskier watches him from her blanket mountain as he kicks off his boots and sits on the edge of the inn's small bed.

"Talked to Lettie, the innkeeper's wife," he says. Jaskier hates how nice the rasp of his voice sounds when he speaks so softly. "She gave me these."

He holds out his hands. In one is a smooth, flat rock no bigger than Jaskier's palm. In the other is a jar of salve and a small satchel that smells of lemon. He sets those aside for the moment and turns the rock over in his hands a few times. His fingers move in a specific pattern--one of his signs, Jaskier thinks--as he frowns in concentration. "Here," he holds out the stone to her. "Tell me if it's too hot for you to touch."

Jaskier wiggles a hand out of the comfort of her blankets and touches it with a fingertip. It's hot but not painfully so, and she says as much.

"Press it against your abdomen," Geralt says, and gestures at the area just above his dick. "Should stay hot for a while and help with the pain. These too." He nods to the other items the woman gave him. "Some kind of tea she swears by and an ointment that’s good for pain and sore muscles.”

She takes the stone and, very slowly, uncurls from the fetal position so she can lay on her front. It hurts. Moving always does. But wiggling the stone under her belly so it can rest between her pelvis and the mattress is well worth it. The warmth is _wonderful_. Jaskier closes her eyes and lets out a small, happy noise.

Geralt huffs out something that could be a cousin to a laugh, and Jaskier opens one eye just enough to glare at him. “Hush, you,” she says, words slightly muffled with how much of her face is shoved into the pillow. All she gets in return is a baleful raised eyebrow that makes her huff. She reaches out and touches his arm with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you, Geralt. Really.” She pauses. “Would you be willing to put some of that salve on my lower back? I don’t want to contort myself too much right now.”

For a split second there’s a look on his face that makes Jaskier think his ears would be a bright, burning red if he could blush.

“Can’t do that through all your bedding.” He gestures at the truly obscene amount of blankets she has piled on her. “Or my cloak.” There may be a pointed look accompanying that comment.

“It smells better than the blankets,” she says. _It smells like you,_ she means, but does not say. She thinks Geralt hears it anyway, if the slightly fond look he gives her is any indication. “Maybe you could do it in a bit. After the heat has a chance to work and the tea’s been made.”

Geralt hums. “Water’s over the fire downstairs. Lettie said she’ll send one of her boys up with a mug when it’s hot.”

A smile she can’t help curls at her lips. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

It’s sweet, really. As is the way Geralt shifts, sitting against the headboard and settling in like he means to keep her company until the contract he picked up requires him to go out again. He doesn't touch her but he stays close; a comforting presence. It makes Jaskier’s chest ache. Her heart feels as if it’s swelled with how much she loves him in that moment. It doesn’t matter how, just that she does, and that this right here—this carefully hidden care and gentle sass—is why she wants to spend the rest of her life with him in whatever way he’ll allow.

**Author's Note:**

> there will probably be more in this 'verse because i have entirely too many plot bunnies augh
> 
> this started as vent fic while i've been dealing with endo nonsense. and then it grew legs and world building


End file.
